That Feeling
by MaidofShadow
Summary: "Do you ever get that feeling? That feeling like nothing is ever going to be ok again? I did; every day." This story is probably different from things you've read before. A girl goes mad with depression in our world and a certain elf helps her out. The summary is horrible but please read. Oneshot Legolas/OC (you can decide if its more than friendship) Reason it's rated T! Crack!fic


**Another oneshot! This is different and a bit weird. Enjoy anyways and please tell me what you think!**

**Warning: the main character is suicidal, read at your own risk.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings**

Do you ever get that feeling? That feeling like nothing is ever going to be ok again? I did; every day.

I used to wonder, why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? What did I ever do to feel this way?

I tried to be a good person. Sure, I lied occasionally and maybe even stole a little once or twice but I tried to be kind and caring and helpful. I'm not sure how this happened.

It started with the emptiness; this horrible feeling that settles in your stomach and gnaws at your insides like an animal. It got to the point where I was in physical pain. I couldn't eat or sleep due to it and when I did eat it was only with the hope that the pain would go away. That it would somehow subside if my stomach was full. That never worked.

After the emptiness came the loneliness. It was a feeling that grew larger with each passing day. It was odd because I wanted to be alone but at the same time I knew I needed someone. I always felt lonelier when I was with people than when I was by myself.

Next came the anxiety. I was afraid. I didn't want to go outside or to have to socialize. I didn't want to have to be around anyone. I wanted to stay curled up in bed and forget about the world. I got nervous when I did have to go out. There were too many people. Too much talk and laughter and smiles and it all made my head hurt and my hands shake.

Finally the sadness settled in. Not the temporary kind. No, this was that type of sadness that was in your bones. You couldn't get rid of it no matter how hard you tried.

At first I had only wanted to be happy but as time passed the light slowly faded from my eyes and the fake smiles became permanent. I forgot what being happy felt like and I no longer yearned for it. I just wanted the feeling to stop.

Then I became numb and I wanted nothing more than to feel something once more so I cut. And cut. And cut. My arms and legs became covered with scars and I was going through bandages faster than I thought was possible.

Soon I stopped eating too. What was the point? I wanted to die. I wanted to. I prayed for it. I longed for it. Instead of it being my nightmare it was my dream. The other good thing about not eating was that I would get skinnier. I was never good enough. I guess I thought that being skinny would make me better. When I had to eat, I would go to the bathroom immediately after and throw it all up.

In the end I guess it was the fact that I stopped caring that made everything change. I just didn't care anymore. Before I had welcomed death but now I didn't care whether I lived or died. I didn't care about people or feelings or work or anything. I just didn't care.

I guess some would say I just lost the will to live. I don't know if that's how I would describe it but it works well enough. I just became this wisp of a person who was nothing; who cared for nothing.

I began to lose all my friends. My family drifted away but I hadn't changed at all. It was as if time stood still for me while the rest of the world passed by. I watched as everything changed, while I stayed the same, never moving.

Slowly I began to lose my grip on reality. At some point they moved me to a hospital but I don't remember when. I just sat by the window everyday looking outside but not really seeing.

I just existed.

Not living, not loving; just surviving. Only waiting for my time to come.

Days passed, months, maybe even years. I didn't really know. Sometimes people would feed me but most of the time I just rejected the food and continued to stare at the outside world.

It was during one of these days that he came to me. I was in some sort of state of half asleep when I saw him for the first time; a glowing white figure that I could just barely make out from behind my eyelids. When I was fully awake once more and seated in my position by the window, he walked in.

I ignored him as I did with all people and continued to dwell in the emptiness that was my mind.

I heard a faint hello and felt some weight sink into the bed beside me but I didn't pay it any mind. He didn't speak again but only sat with me. When visiting hours were over, he left with a small goodbye. I didn't even turn my head.

The next day he returned and the next and the next and the next. He never missed a day and I was getting used to his silence and the feel of him beside me. I never looked at him, never talked to him, never moved but for the first time in a long time I felt comforted by something.

One day he took my hand and I looked at him for the first time. He was a gorgeous man with blonde hair and sad eyes. He gave me a little smile and I turned away once more but didn't let go of his hand.

After that day things began to change. I began to talk to him. At first it was only a few words but it quickly became more. We would have long conversations about everything and nothing and I enjoyed the time I spent with him.

We never did anything other than talk and hold hands but I started to feel like myself again; stronger, healthier, happier.

There was one day when I knew things were different. The nurses had announced I was better and free to go home the next day. I was excited. He visited as usual and we talked for hours on end. I smiled for the first time in what seemed like centuries. By the end of the day he looked happy as well, no longer the sad man I had seen that day he had taken my hand. Just before he left I asked him a question that I couldn't believe I had forgotten to ask before.

"What's your name?" I called out.

He offered a small smile. "Legolas," was all he said. I remember thinking it odd but beautiful. I remember thinking that it suited him. With that he turned and left and I never saw him again while I lived.

I guess maybe I fell in love with him, I don't know. I'll never know if he loved me too but he helped me heal. He helped me live again.

At the end of my days, I still thought about how he helped me. I had asked the doctors and they said no one had come to visit me. Maybe he had been in my mind. I'm not really sure anymore but that's ok. He had given me the strength to continue.

Death had claimed me now and I finally saw him again. He was standing on the whitest beach I had ever seen, hand extended, boat ready to cross the sea.

I smiled and took his hand and finally that feeling was gone; and in that moment I knew that everything would be ok.

**Love it? Hate it? I know it's weird but I wanted to do something different. Please review! It would mean so much! Tell me what you think whether it's bad or good.**

**Thanks!**

**~Ana**


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